


Their Ghost

by which_chartreuse



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Compliant, Curten, Ellison as father figure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, I didn't meen to be so moody, Karen Page & Curtis Hoyle & David Lieberman Friendship, Karen Page & Marci Stahl Friendship, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson & Karen Page Friendship, Multi, Post-Canon, Sad with a Happy Ending, Tags Are Hard, Wedding, Will add tags as I go, at least I think this counts as that, everyone tries to move on, friends of Frank Castle support group, friends of NYC vigilantes support group, is there a way to reorder tags later?, little hints of humor in a world of angst, mostly - Freeform, practice, soft and angsty aren't mutually exclusive, super vague implied sex, surprisingly supportive Marci, swift passage of time, we aren't going to solve this mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-02-29 09:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/which_chartreuse/pseuds/which_chartreuse
Summary: There are few people whose lives have been so deeply scarred by association with Frank Castle (and lived). Curtis is the first to admit it’s better not to get roped into the Punisher’s wars, but Frank still has hooks in all of them. Maybe, together, they can find something else to love, instead of another war...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have only seen one other work that pairs Karen and Curtis, and while I enjoyed it, it was not what I was looking for. So I started writing this. 
> 
> [I may secretly love breaking hearts ("breaking" is an adjective).]

He appears and disappears like the ghost he is. She grows accustomed to the not knowing, eventually. In the early days, she never thought she would. But she does. She doesn’t like it, but she makes herself focus on the reality of the here and now. Not the "what-ifs."

There are too many unknowns with Frank Castle.

She is happy, if somewhat apprehensive, when emailed invitations for coffee arrive from Pete Castiglione’s address. She goes, and sits across from him, and allows herself to smile. She also catalogues his bruises, the visible scars, keeping a tally locked in the basement of her mind.

But she stops helping.

If it’s as simple as a search parameter that hadn’t occurred to him yet, she offers it up. But she doesn’t dig for him anymore. To be fair, she doesn’t dig for Daredevil, either. She does the work that the firm of Nelson, Murdock, and Page requires, but she doesn’t help vigilantes. Doesn’t enable. She digs for herself, sometimes, but always with the watchful eyes of Ellison and Mahoney on her research.

Her crimefighting goes through the official channels.

After a while, she sees Frank maybe twice a year. She sees David Lieberman and Curtis Hoyle more often than that. There’s a triumvirate of people whose lives have been scarred by association with Frank Castle. When he brings the three of them together, Curtis is the first to admit he shouldn’t be looking, knows it’s best not to get roped into the Punisher’s wars, but there’s still a hook in them. They all feel it. They form their own sort of support group.

Karen is pretty sure David knows more about Frank’s comings and goings than he lets on, but he doesn’t share. They’re all grateful for the pregnant silences that pass between them when they meet. It's nice to be quiet with others who understand the tension in that silence. And over time, the tension yields to familiarity, and the triumvirate splits into an expanding friendship, a circle of healing.

Curtis invites them all to a holiday event at the church where his veterans’ group is held.

David brings his family. Karen brings Matt and Foggy, who brings Marci. David’s daughter, Leo, instantly takes to Karen, peppering her with questions about her days working beats for the Bulletin, and about the exposés Ellison still publishes. Matt and Curtis compare notes on the conveniences and inconveniences of life in New York for the handicapable. As the two couples, Foggy and Marci and David and Sarah somehow manage to become fast couple-friends in that way Karen has never fully understood. There’s awkwardness, as everyone seems to be sizing up how much everyone else knows of the city’s underworld, but the circle easily widens. For the first Christmas in years, Karen doesn’t fall down a rabbit hole of worry, wishing she knew where to find Frank Castle.

In fact, when she hands Ellison an unexpected human-interest piece on disabled veterans at the holidays, there isn’t one allusion to the man who became the Punisher.

When Pete’s email appears in her mailbox in February, she considers ignoring it. She successfully compartmentalizes and shelves it for nearly twenty-four hours before texting Curtis. He calls her back within five minutes; he’s had one, too. They both go to their separate coffee dates.

She feels her heart pounding behind the wall she’s built against him, but if Frank notices the difference – the woodenness she feels in her limbs, the tremor in her smile, keeping herself from meeting his eyes for too long – he doesn’t acknowledge it. These meetings have long felt a curtesy to her, and maybe he’ll see that she’s made peace with his war and let go.

There’s a finality to the goodbye that comes after just one cup each.

She cries when she tells Curtis about it, then laughs at her own tears. He doesn’t tell her what he and Frank talked about, but he does hug her, acknowledge her emotions, and reassure her. Neither of them is crazy. They aren’t bad people. They’ve lived trauma-soaked lives for so long, it makes sense that freedom from their ghost feels foreign, daunting. The way Curtis speaks to her, she doesn’t feel alone. She feels light when they hug goodbye, knowing that they’ll see each other soon.

There are more one-on-one’s after that. They still have the semi-regular meetings of their original three, and relatively frequent group outings with the expanded friends-and-family-of-NYC-vigilantes group. But Karen accepts more invitations without bringing Matt or Foggy along for support, and invites Curtis to things she thinks he’ll enjoy without feeling the need to ask David too.

It’s actually Ellison who finally asks if they’re dating. He does it tactfully, which Karen appreciates. But that doesn’t mean she has an answer, so he confronts Curtis. Ellison has long been the stand-in for a father figure in Karen’s life – they both know it – and he takes the opportunity to truly embody the position. He starts with the basics of background and career, feigning a general curiosity that raises Karen’s suspicions. By the time he gets to “prospects” and “intentions,” Karen is clutching Curt’s arm, laughing uncomfortably, and insisting he doesn’t have to answer to Ellison’s third degree.

To his credit, Curtis doesn’t succumb to Ellison’s pressure, and demurs to discussing with the editor what he hasn’t had the opportunity to discuss with Karen. He’s impressive and diplomatic, and Karen is left speechless until they’re out on the street together and Curtis is searching her face. She admits she doesn’t know what it is she feels, but that there is something there. And he agrees.

And when he kisses her, it doesn’t exactly feel “right,” but it feels _good_.

It’s unexpected, but also seems like it’s been building for a long time. After that night, it all just happens. They’re tentative with each other, but comfortable too. It’s not too fast, but it isn’t slow. It’s unexpected, and it’s good. And once it’s happening, everyone else insists they saw it coming, from Foggy to Sarah, but Karen has a feeling only Matt and Leo’s self-satisfied smirks are genuine.

It continues to feel good for several months, and practically all the time Karen isn’t spending at the office or running down leads she spends with Curt. He makes her feel heard, and she hears him, too, when he needs to let go of the weight he carries. When it’s rough, they’re there for each other. When it’s happy, there are movies and dinners and sweet moments snuggled on the couch. And when the really hard days come around, there’s space, too. They read each other well, and trust each other, so when “practically all the time” isn’t “right now,” that feels good, too. There’s someone to return to.

Nine months in he has two drawers in her apartment, and she has half his closet. The key to his place has a red heart sticker on it and is easier to spot than her own on the keyring. The rest of the circle learns that where one is the other will inevitably show up, too. When Leo asks them to come talk for a “What I Could Be When I Grow Up” day at school, she introduces them as her Aunt Karen and Uncle Curtis, which they laugh about over lunch before returning to work.

It’s nearly a year to the day since the last one that Curt gets an email from Pete Castiglione. It’s uncomfortably quiet for full minutes after he tells Karen. She hasn’t had any messages.

He says he won’t go if it will worry her, but she takes his face between her hands and kisses him and says he should do what he wants. She trusts him, she knows he can handle himself. She just doesn’t want to know if he goes, or where or when he goes. Or what they talk about if he goes. She wants to keep her life Punisher-free, but she won’t deny him his friend. Curtis watches her expression, but she just stares him down and then kisses him again.

He doesn’t tell her when or where he goes to meet Frank, or that that’s where he’s going, but he’s pretty sure she knows. He keeps his promise, though, and they don’t talk about it. Within a few days, it’s like this Frank-shaped blip in their relationship never happened.

On the anniversary of that first kiss outside Ellison’s press dinner, Karen attempts to cook a celebratory dinner. When Curt arrives home, however, he finds a disheveled Karen nursing a beer and glowering at what once may have been a chicken as it smolders in his kitchen sink. He just beams at her, and then laughs with her, and insists that ordering pizza can be just as celebratory as a homecooked meal.

And the kiss he gives her, it’s more than just good. It’s deep, and hungry, and passionate, and ecstatic. Sure, it’s also familiar now, in so many ways. But as Karen looks back on the past year, and the months of friendship that preceded that, she lets herself acknowledge the progress she’s made, and the love that has grown for this handsome, intelligent (smart-ass), kind, incredible man. So, when they pause to breathe, and she’s pressed between his chest and the bed, peering into his eyes, she tells him. She uses the word he’s been verbalizing for months. And that feels more than good, too.

After, they never really take their hands off each other. He strokes her hair, helping her pull it from the collar of one of his shirts she’s claimed. She affectionately squeezes his ass while helping him to the sofa on his one leg. And they sit hand in hand as they order pizza and watch the late news while waiting for it to arrive. When the knock comes at the door – louder and more urgent than the usual delivery guy – she kisses him before rising to answer it.

And all the good, the high, the sweet ecstasy…

 

There’s an unexpected silence after the door opens. Then she’s saying his name with an unfamiliar edge in her voice. Curtis twists in his seat, trying to see over the sofa. And the second time, she’s calling his name in a voice like a desperate wail. He struggles up on his forearm crutches, rounding the furniture while she fights to support the large figure falling through the doorway.

Karen manages to get them inside and kick the door shut behind them before she collapses under the weight, and Curtis can see the blood already staining her shirt and hands. She stares up at him with those impossibly blue eyes and looks so lost, so scared.

 

And all the good, the high, the sweet ecstasy is seeping out of them as Frank Castle bleeds out on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another sort of personal exercise for me, as I have always enjoyed the sort of story that stays brief and moves swiftly through time. This is the first time I felt like I had an idea that would fit that style, and I liked trying it because it was so much swifter to write, too. I actually started this before Disappear, but that one overtook it, so here's a two-for-one day.
> 
> There are two separate ideas in my head for where this is going. One is incredibly bleak, and the other is marginally happier. I haven't decided which way I'm going yet, but there will be at least one more chapter. As always, I would appreciate feedback, and I hope no one hates this.
> 
> Thanks for reading (:


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry… I-” 

Frank’s voice is little more than a rasp in a larger struggle for air, but Karen registers the words before the gasps become racking coughs. Frank gapes up at Karen with such agony in his eyes and all she can do is stare back in horror. 

Curtis is there with her, making quick work of stripping away Frank’s ragged, blood-soaked clothes. There are too many wounds bleeding in too many places to tell where the worst of it is coming from. There’s broken glass embedded in Frank’s flesh, and there’s so much blood. They’re all covered in it. With a casual look, all three of them could be victims.

Then the apartment fills with spooks, pushing Curtis and Karen out of the way. A manual respirator obscures Frank’s face, and they bundle him onto a stretcher.

Karen tries to follow the medics out, reaching out, struggling to grab Frank’s hand where it dangles from the stretcher. But Madani is there, holding her back. And the blood drip, drip, drips from Karen’s outstretched hands.

Karen awakes in a cold sweat, and presses a trembling palm to her tear-streaked cheek in resignation. She thinks she may never sleep through a night without watching Frank die again in her dreams. Her nightmares.

But the worst of it is, she still doesn’t know. 

Some months earlier, over a cup of coffee and a stale muffin, Frank Castle had told Curtis he was done. He was taking care of one last thing, indirectly even, and then he was getting out of the Punisher business. This would probably be their last coffee for a few years, he’d said. And Curtis had believed him, and hadn’t pried about the “last thing,” or even asked what was next. The way Frank had mentioned Amy’s acceptance to college earlier in the conversation had given Curt an out to assume he was disappearing south. 

Now, he wishes he had asked, had ignored the flimsy sense of relief he had felt in February. 

Weeks went by with no word from Madani. Karen came partway out of the shock, returning to work with her usual dedication, but still slipped into silent staring spells every now and again. 

It was during one of these lapses that Curt noticed the notes spread across the kitchen table weren’t NMP files. They were police reports, noise complaints, John Doe hospital records, every sort of disturbance and death account, all from that night and the following day. There was a list of phone numbers and government officials he recognized as a path to Madani. Scans of _Bulletin_ articles on recent mob deaths and gang-related activity in the city.

They stopped speaking for days after he confronted her on the digging. And Curt knows that anger is another kind of processing, but he still worried. He was the one to apologize. He knows she has to know, or that she’ll never stop looking, so he helps. He almost wishes he hadn’t used his one line to Madani because he can’t get in touch with her now. But without her, he’s certain Frank would have died right there on his floor. 

Instead, he’s helping Karen find the closure they’re all craving.

David is, too. At least, it appears he is. He turns up chatter on the prison gang Frank decimated before Wilson Fisk expelled Castle from Ryker’s. The loose connection with Fisk puts them all on edge, and that almost distracts from the fact Curtis knows Micro can reach deeper into the encrypted world than anyone else, and that he isn’t doing it. But figuring out who did this to Castle keeps Karen engaged, keeps her from dwelling on the not knowing, so Curt focuses on backing her up as she runs down leads. 

When the Liebermans announce their relocation to the west coast, Curtis thinks it means David knows what happened, doesn’t want to be implicated in another dangerous conspiracy, and doesn’t want to be the one to crush Karen’s spirit. He won’t say anything to Curtis, either, though, and the fate of Frank Castle remains assumption. 

After a tearful goodbye with the Liebermans, Karen’s mission loses steam. Curtis hates that he’s grateful, but he is. She seems less willing to risk tangling with dangerous figures to get hold of the leads she wants without David’s intelligence backing her up. Things don’t go back to what they were before, but they’re similar. He can fall asleep with Karen in his arms and wake up to her still there, not hunched over her computer or pacing the floors. They see movies. They accept invitations to dinner with Foggy and Marci, and the Ellisons. Every moment isn’t consumed with finding “the truth,” and he begins to let go of the worry. 

It is difficult not to know, but they have been accustomed to the not knowing before, and they will grow accustomed to not knowing again. 

~``~

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry… I-Karen, I…” 

Frank’s voice is a rasp in a larger struggle for air, but Karen registers the words. He stares up at her with agony in his eyes and all she can do is look on in horror. 

There are so many wounds bleeding in so many places, and glass embedded in Frank’s flesh. She’s covered in his blood as she struggles to staunch the bleeding.

Then the apartment fills with spooks, pushing Karen out of the way. A dark cloth obscures Frank’s face as they bundle him off.

Karen tries to follow, reaching out, struggling to grab Frank’s hand where it dangles from the blanket. But a faceless woman is there, holding her back, smearing the blood up Karen’s outstretched arms.

Karen wakes in a cold sweat, tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. Curtis is pressed against her, and she curls into his warmth. He stirs with her movement, kisses the crown of her hair, and falls back to sleep. 

Everyone knows what she saw, to one extent or another. Everyone knows who she is. Which is why she’s surprised how easy it is to make people believe she’s moving on. Somedays, even she feels a twisted sort of relief that she’s letting go. Maybe it’s because – like Curtis, though she doesn’t know it – David leaving feels like a confirmation of death. Maybe it’s because making people believe she’s moving on requires slowing down, to practically a standstill. But slow doesn’t mean stop. 

She knows the people who love her worry, and she doesn’t want them to. She doesn’t want to drag anyone else along with her. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone the way she hurts. And as much as it hurts, she also knows that feeling the pain, living with the ghost of Frank Castle, means she’s alive; and she doesn’t want to die. It may take the rest of her life to safely and surely piece together what happened, but drawing out all the pieces helps hold _her_ together. 

She just wants to know who killed Frank Castle. 

It’s turning cold again when Curtis asks if Karen wants to come with him to the cemetery. Frank had a headstone long before his most recent death, and Curtis tells her about going there with Billy. How it had felt to lie to their friend, not knowing, of course, that Bill was part of the reason the Punisher had been born. Even though there’s no body under the stone, it might be of some relief to visit the marker again. 

They take a bottle of wine, remembering something David and Sarah said about a wine-drunk Frank at that last dinner before the Liebermans left. Karen tears up a bit, and Curt’s arm closes around her shoulders, holding her tight to his side. He says a few words about what a shit friend Castle could be, and they laugh. He says a few more about what a devoted friend Castle was, too, and they walk back to the car in silence.

The following week, Karen finds the ring-box inside Curt’s leg. She’s pulling the sock off of it to do the laundry, when it falls to the floor. It’s the first time she has ever seen Curtis truly lose his cool. He’s so thrown, in fact, that the confrontation quickly deteriorates from awkward surprise to incredulous anger. It’s a stupid fight, but he can’t get a handle back on it, can’t steer them back to solid ground. For the first time since the immediate aftermath, he spends the night alone. 

The next evening, he tries to explain that he wasn’t going to propose, that he wants to be with her, that it’s a misunderstanding, that he loves her, but all those words come out wrong, too. He tries to say too much at once, and she laughs at him. It’s cold and it hurts him, and she can see that it hurts. But it also straightens him out. 

He loves her. He wants to be with her. He wanted to marry her. He’s had the ring since the anniversary. But after what happened, he couldn’t ask her. He loves her, but he wasn’t going to propose after that. They both needed time. But now that she knows, it’s her choice. They can keep going, whether she wants to put on the ring or not, or they can stop here. He respects her decision. Maybe just, open the box, he says.

She does, and the cold fades out of her face. She’s warm, and open, and light again, though there are tears in her eyes. She needs some time, she says, handing the box back to him. He sets it on the kitchen table, and gives her the time. He goes back to the apartment that’s pretty much his cousin’s now, and waits. It’s only a few days before Karen calls to ask if he wants to meet her for dinner after work. 

It’s almost like it was before, at the beginning. They spend most of their time together, but go back to their separate spaces at night. It feels tentative, again, but it’s comfortable, too. One night, just after the New Year, he falls asleep in her bed and she doesn’t wake him up, doesn’t politely kick him out. The following evening, she arrives to dinner wearing the ring. 

~``~

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry… I – Karen, I…” 

He stares up at her with such surprise in his eyes and all she can do is watch him bleed out again. 

Karen wakes and rolls over with a sigh. 

It’s strange to wake up in the middle of the bed alone, but she’ll never have to again if she doesn’t want to. Not after today. The warm August sunshine streams through the curtains, and the sound of Marci sweating to the oldies drifts in from the living room. 

The woman has been both a terror and a godsend in the last eight months, but Karen doesn’t think she’d actually have made it here without Marci. She’s also halfway certain Marci’s only been so supportive about all this because the prospect of Karen Page getting married finally got Foggy to man-up and put a ring on it. It’s okay if their friendship is built on means and ends, though, because Karen has needed some female perspective that doesn’t come long distance from a teenager and housewife, curtesy of the Liebermans, even if that perspective is Marci’s. 

She waits for the sound of the shower, then the blow-dryer, before getting out of bed. She savors the last calm moments before heading into the whirlwind of preparation. She smiles back at Marci’s impeccably white grin and the reassurance that all her Castle research disappeared into Hogarth & Associates industrial shredders last night. Marci’s wedding present to Curtis, she calls it. And then they’re off. 

It’s carefully controlled chaos, but it’s all good chaos. Happy chaos. Time seems to be moving at triple speed, and before long she’s standing in the narthex, accepting Matt and Foggy’s kisses to her cheek, watching Marci and Sarah join her avocados at law as they process down the aisle alongside Curt’s cousins. Then she’s accepting Ellison’s arm, and…

Karen Page marries Curtis Hoyle, and there’s barely a dry eye in sight. 

Then there’s dancing, and drinking, and laughing. Everything is beautiful. It’s overwhelmingly white and gold, which is Marci’s influence, but it’s all just right. The people Karen loves are all there, with two exceptions. The people who matter are all there, but one.

It doesn’t matter that Paxton Page is not in attendance at his daughter’s wedding because he wasn’t invited. And while there is no extra place card and no name on the chart, there’s an extra chair at the Liebermans’ table they all – those who knew – agreed should be open. 

After dinner, kiss-drunk and champagne-drunk, Karen convinces Curtis to dance some more, though they both know his stump will be sore in the morning. She promises to kiss it better again, and Curtis agrees because he can’t deny his wife anything. Not when she laughs like that, not when her smile lights up just for him. 

They lead each other in slow loops, beaming back and forth between themselves, gazing into one another’s eyes. 

Her eyes are so brilliantly blue it’s difficult to focus on them, but impossible not to come back to them time and time again. And the way Curtis looks at her, the way he admires her and loves her means everything to her now. With one sad glance back at the empty seat between Leo and Zach Lieberman, Karen knows this is right. She buries her search for Frank Castle’s killer, all the secret research and leads, in the basement of her mind and throws away the key. 

This is right, swaying here with Curtis, with their friends and family all around them. This is her life, their life, beginning. 

~``~

Karen sways on the spot, eyes wide and bright. Then collapses in a pool of white crêpe. 

Curtis is there with her, grasping for her hands, asking questions, calling her name, searching her arms, her torso for a source of trauma. Karen stares up at him, surprise and fear in her eyes, and all he can do is stare back in shock. 

There are people all around them, pressing in and holding others back. Foggy is at Curtis’s shoulder, asking, begging to know how he can help. Sarah hovers beside David as he calls for paramedics. Marci holds a sobbing Leo, stroking her hair, and a shell-shocked Zach, watching the scene unfold. Curtis’s cousin and a former army surgeon from the veterans’ support group rush forward, stripping off their jackets and rolling up their sleeves as they run. Ellison slumps in his chair, turning into his wife’s embrace as visions of the _Bulletin_ massacre flash in his memory. Matt reaches Foggy and tentatively sets his hand on the groom’s other shoulder, waiting and listening with a look of rapt apprehension on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lot longer to finish than the first chapter because I rewrote it three times before I found rhythm and amount of detail that felt right. I dropped a lot of details that might have helped explain the timeline of the aftermath because they felt too "expositiony," and I'm a big fan of "show, don't tell." I don't know if that left too much to the imagination or not, but I actually feel happy with it, so that's an amazing outcome on its own. 
> 
> Please don't hate me. 
> 
> One more short chapter coming.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m sorry, I-I’m so sorry… Karen, I… I didn’t know.” 

Karen stares up at him with shock and surprise in her eyes, and all Frank can do is stare back in horror. 

There are hands everywhere, grasping, searching her arms, her torso for a source of trauma, cradling her head and neck. She can hear Curtis, calling her name, begging her to stay, but she can’t find his face. 

All she sees is Frank Castle. His too oft-broken nose, his full lips, his deep, dark eyes. For once, there’s not a mark on him, no bruising or blood. But there’s still a storm in those eyes, a helpless rage she doesn’t understand. 

“Karen, I didn’t know. Please… Please forgive me.” 

What is there to forgive?

He seems to be getting closer, though at the same time it becomes more difficult to focus on those features. She feels him replace whoever was last holding her hand, and his fingers are cold as they slide between hers. 

Her expression is still of surprise, but also of curiosity, as his name forms on her lips. 

“Frank?” It comes out as a question, and the storm breaks as a small smile splits his fearful mask. 

He kisses her cheek, and it’s a cold echo of one he gave her years ago, on a late autumn night on the riverbank. 

“Forgive me,” he repeats, the unnamed tempest of emotions returning to his look as he pleads with her. 

She does. Of course she does. Whatever she has the power to forgive Frank Castle for, she will.

“Let me go,” he whispers now. There are tears in his eyes. 

And she does this, too. The hands she didn’t even realize were fisted around his lapels release, and his fingers clasp hers once more. 

She peers up at him with bemused curiosity, and all he can do is stare back in bittersweet resignation. 

It grows harder and harder to pick out the details of his face, and she can’t make out the words he’s saying as an incredible buzzing rises all around her. She has a feeling someone is calling her name, but she doesn’t remember who. It’s a struggle just to keep her eyes open. 

But they’re there with her, she knows. She can feel them holding her hands. One burning, warm and strong, grasping her with both hands. One soft and cool, though equally strong, with their fingers laced through hers. 

They’ll stay with her. 

They’ll be with her when she wakes up…

~``~

Karen wakes in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with the sun shining in through the blinds. 

Her husband, Curtis, is there, holding her hand and blinking back an ever more excited look as he smiles down at her, trying to remain calm. 

She’s just had the strangest, most beautiful dream, she thinks, and she wants to tell Curtis about it, but its details are slipping away as she smiles up at him and accepts his kiss. 

That’s alright, though. It’s enough to know it was a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...   
> Has anyone actually read this far? If so, please feel free to lay it on me. I want to know all your thoughts and visions and emotions. 
> 
> Thanks for reading (;


End file.
